


Roman's Room

by thelogicalloganipus (awkwardkermitfrog)



Series: Rooms in the Mind Palace [2]
Category: Sanders Sides
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardkermitfrog/pseuds/thelogicalloganipus
Summary: @logically-asexual had an idea that Virgil would fall in love with Roman while in his room, but forget when he left.You can listen to this fic on Soundcloud here ---> https://soundcloud.com/user-423401866/romans-room





	Roman's Room

“Roman, would you come out here?” Virgil rapped on the door with his knuckles, hoodie drawn over his shoulders. “Patton wants you to come to dinner.”

Virgil waited a moment, listening to the muffled music coming through the door. He groaned, agitated. “Alright. I’m going in. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Virgil paused for a moment and then put his hand on the golden handle and gave it a swift turn, opening the door.

Immediately a loud pop song was blasted at his ears, making his eyes go wide. His heart pounded in his chest, suddenly washed over with a warm, pleasant feeling. It sent jitters through his fingertips and electricity through his body. Virgil smiled, slightly, at the feeling, but then shook his head and began to walk over to Roman, who wasn’t paying attention to him having entered.

Roman was bent over a desk, muttering to himself, laughing at his own jokes. He jumped when Virgil shook his shoulder, turning around quickly. He then stood up and walked over to the speaker, shutting it off. 

“I apologize for that, Virgil, I just get very invested in what I’m doing.” Roman said with a small shrug. “What were you saying?”

“I… don’t remember.” Virgil walked around the room, looking at all the posters on the walls, at all the intricate drawings in ink. He bent down and inspected one, a drawing of a mouse, and looked up at Roman. “You can draw? Thomas can’t draw.”

“Yes, but everything looks better in your head. Which is where we are.” Roman explained, smiling. “Do you like them?”

Virgil traced his fingers over another drawing, this one of a rabbit, and nodded in appreciation. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” Roman let a wide grin spread across his face, watching as Virgil continued to inspect the works on the wall. “I have a sketchbook, if you’d like to see more.”

“Yeah.” Virgil straightened up, smiling. “That’d be-”

“Guys, are you coming to dinner or not?” 

Roman and Virgil turned away from each other to see Patton standing in the hallway, holding two glasses of coke. “I got you soda.” 

“Let’s go.” Virgil walked out the door, followed closely by Roman.

“Yeah. I can show you my sketches another time.” Roman nodded, following.

“Your what?” Virgil turned towards Roman, a confused expression on his face, as they entered the kitchen.

Roman opened his mouth, gaped, and closed it again, sitting down and watching Patton set a dish in the middle of the table. He spent most of that dinner watching Virgil, trying to get a hint out of him as to what had happened, but seeing nothing. He frowned and picked at his macaroni, not paying the food much mind. Instead, he remembered the way Virgil had looked at him, the way he’d looked at his drawings…

 

* * *

 

“Logan, can I bother you a moment?” Roman asked from across the couch. He had waited, carefully, until Patton and Virgil had gone to their rooms, then another few minutes for Logan to get comfortable with them being alone in the near darkness of the television, before proceeding. He watched as Logan looked up, surprised, eyebrows raised, and stared at him. 

“What would you like to ask me?” 

“Well… suppose you weren’t sure about something. Something happened, and you weren’t sure what the cause was.” Roman stroked his chin, watching Logan place a bookmark in his textbook. “How would you see if it was random or not?”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you’d have to try and repeat the events. Make them as similar as possible to the first occurrence, and do it more than once, so that you could not your findings.” Logan explained. He watched as Roman nodded, following along. “I suppose it would be trial and error. Why are you asking me this?” 

“Oh, just curious, you know. The usual.” Roman stood up, stretching, mind whirring. “I’ve got to head to bed. Have a good night.” He didn’t wait for Logan before taking off in the direction of his room, pausing momentarily at Virgil’s door before heading off to his own bed. 

 

* * *

 

Virgil looked up, acknowledging the two knocks on his door, and then back at his phone. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, creaking, causing Virgil to raise an eyebrow. He watched as Roman stepped in, cautious, smiling, and stood in the doorway. For a moment, Virgil watched as Roman stared at the floor, arms crossed. 

“Is something bothering you?” Virgil turned back to his phone a moment, locking the screen, and then looked up at Roman. “Something you came in here for, or…”

“No - not quite.” Roman swallowed. “I just wanted to show you something.” Virgil observed, carefully, that Roman was not stepping into the room. “Would you come to my room?”

“Uh.. sure.” Virgil nodded, eyebrow cocked in confusion, and stepped off the bed. He followed Roman down the hall, feeling rather bored, and then followed Roman over the threshold of the door. 

Immediately, change.

Immediately, electricity running through his fingers, out his hands and back up again to his heart. All around him, a soft feeling, warm, like being wrapped in an emotional blanket. Virgil walked forward, breaths small and excited, and up to a drawing on the wall, an ink drawing of a raven. “Wow, Princey. Thomas can’t draw.”

“Yes… but in his head, he can.” Roman smiled, shutting the door all but a crack. He watched as Virgil traced his hands over the drawing, feeling the grooves where ink had pressed paper. “I have a sketchbook. Would you like to see it?” 

Virgil looked up, beaming, smiling. “Very much, actually. I’m surprised… I just feel… giddy.” He grinned, an unusual sight, as Roman pulled a book down from a shelf and passed it to him. He passed through the pages, aweing at Roman’s style, gasping, unable to contain himself. Everything felt good. Everything felt warm, and good, and romantic.

“Can I draw… you?” Roman asked, reaching for the notebook. For a moment, their fingers brushed against each other. Virgil’s heart jumped, his eyes widened. He looked at Roman, their faces close together, and nodded his permission. 

Roman pulled away to get a piece of paper and a pen, pulling himself away from the tension between them. Virgil watched as he nervously pulled out a different sketchbook and a pen from his desk, sat in the desk chair, and looked at him. 

“How do you want me - how do- what do I do?” Virgil asked, fidgeting. 

“Well, not moving is a start.” Roman laughed, a sound that rang like bells in Virgil’s ears. He felt heat in his cheeks. “Just… sit somewhere comfortable. And don’t move. I’ll try to go quickly but these can take a while.” Virgil nodded, situating himself quickly into a position where he was leaning on the wall, staring at a corner. He listened, mind itching, as the pen scratched the paper. He swallowed, trying not to squirm, thoughts racing. What would he look like? Did he look okay today? Would it turn out alright? He found his eyes wandering over to the paper, to Roman, who looked like he was lost in some kind of hyperfocused trance, pen moving as if of its own free will, staring at him, not talking or thinking. 

Virgil took a deep breath and willed himself not to look, not to peek. He thought about all the times Roman had made him smile. All the times he’d gone out of his way to try for him, to not insult him, to accept him. He found the corners of his mouth twitching, eyes beaming with gratitude. When Roman finally set down the pen, he gestured for Virgil to look, and he did, smiling, dimples in his cheeks and a rosy complexion over his nose. 

“Do I really look like that?” He found his mouth acting before his brain could stop it. He looked at Roman, who nodded, nothing but admiration in his eyes. 

There was a pause, a flutter. The clock ticked. A bell chimed. Virgil found himself locked in Roman’s gaze, locked there, getting closer together-

“Guys! Dinner is ready!” 

Roman pulled away, leaving Virgil hanging there, frozen, and stood up. He looked thoughtful a moment. Virgil watched him put the drawing away, in a drawer, and stand up. 

“I think you should go first.” He opened the door, waiting for Virgil to pass through. Virgil shrugged, standing up, feeling a little hurt, and walked towards it, walking out into the hall.

“Have you seen my drawing, Virgil?” 

Virgil turned, looking confused, and tilted his head. “I haven't seen it. I’m sorry, Roman.” He turned and walked down the hallway, not looking back at Roman, who was stunned. “You coming or what?” 

 

* * *

 

Roman paced the floor of his bedroom, glancing occasionally at the place where he’d put the drawing of Virgil. He looked at his clock. 1 a.m. He wrung his hands, remembering the closeness between them, how close their faces had been, noses almost touching, hands brushing together. He sat on his bed, frustrated, and stood up again, walking out of his room and down to Virgil’s.

He waited, standing there, listening, trying to determine if Virgil was awake. Silence crept between them and his stomach sank. He raised his hand to knock, but then lowered it, staring at the light coming from under the door, a soft blue light which would suggest a laptop or television was in use. He raised his hand again.

“Up late, I see.” 

Roman jumped, spinning around to see Logan leaning on the wall, staring at him. He folded his arms and shot Roman a look of disapproval.

“So-so are you.” Roman hissed, trying his best to whisper. “Would you go away?” 

“I should get to bed, yes.” Logan looked up, musing, and back at Roman. “Why are you so eager to talk to Virgil alone?”

“It’s none of your business.” Roman muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Please leave me alone, alright? It’s really none of your business.”

“Hmm.” Logan turned, back now completely on the wall, and looked down. “Does this have anything to do with your hypothesis?” 

“What?” Roman blinked, no longer remembering to whisper.

“You asked me the other night about how to repeat results. I peeked into your room today, find it suspicious that you and Virgil were both missing from activities, and found you and Virgil staring at each other, as if about to kiss.” He frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But then at dinner, Virgil was completely sarcastic to you, rude, and mocked you to your face. Are the two of you in a relationship of some kind?”

“No.” Roman shook his head, ashamed, and looked at Virgil’s door. “No, we are not.”

“Then I would suggest you both get some rest.” Logan shook his head, clearly agitated, and began to walk down the hall, leaving Roman to stare at Virgil’s door, never quite knocking on it. 

 

* * *

 

“Virgil, could you come to my room for a moment? I’d like to show you something.” Roman watched as Virgil glared up at him from the couch, then looked back at the television. 

“In a minute.” Virgil muttered. He stretched, standing up, and then crossed the room, ignoring Patton and Logan, who were wrapped up in a chess game, and went down the hall, then into Roman’s room.

Roman watched as a familiar smile stretched, softly, over Virgil’s lips. He looked at the dark drawings on the walls, gasping, flooded with delight. Roman watched as he looked at him, amazed, and back at the drawings.

“Did you do these, Roman?” Virgil walked up the drawing and Roman watched as he felt the texture, the same way he had for four months, every day. 

“Yes.” Roman nodded, looking at the wall. “I was wondering if I could draw you.” Roman watched as a familiar smile played over Virgil’s face. He got out a now nearly full notebook, filled every day with a new drawing of Virgil, and opened it to a blank page, careful to keep the others hidden. 

“How do you want me to - how do I.. .what do I do?” Virgil asked, fidgeting. 

“Well, just sit still in a comfortable position and everything else will work out.” Roman smiled at him, watching as Virgil sat in what was always his favorite position. He picked up the pen and drew, almost from memory, his jawline, his nose, his eyes. He watched as Virgil did his best to be stiff, not moving. He pretended not to noticed Logan’s shadow in the doorway, disapproving. 

 

* * *

 

“How long are you going to keep this up?” Logan asked, looking at Roman across the couch. Roman stared at the television, pretending he hadn’t heard. 

“You can’t do this forever.” Logan kept his voice low, aware that the others were probably asleep, but cautious nonetheless. “This isn’t fifty first dates, you know.” 

Roman flipped through channels, ignoring him.

“He’s going to find out. You’re using him, Roman. You’re using the good feeling your room gives to manipulate him.” Logan hissed, voice a hideous whisper. 

“He likes it in there.” Roman murmured, fidgeting. “Or he wouldn’t go in.”

“He goes because he forgets the moment he steps in the hallway.” Logan glared, eyes like daggers, and watched as Roman finally looked at him. “You are not in love with him. And he is not in love with you.” With that, Logan stood up, storming out of the room, and slammed his door shut. 

Roman sat, frozen, tears pouring into his eyes, making their ways down his cheeks. He laid down on the couch, tears soaking the fabric, trying his best to be quiet, trying not to move, wailing slightly in spite of himself. Infomercial after infomercial played, but all the while Roman wept, not moving, hating himself.

“Roman?” 

Roman sniffed, looking up, and saw Virgil standing in front of him, head tilted in confusion. He hiccuped, looking at the blurred vision of Virgil before him, and buried his face further into the cushion. After a moment, he felt Virgil’s weight beside him, and a hand awkwardly stroking his back. He felt his body heave, harder, and nearly screamed into the cushion, weeping.

After several minutes of this, Roman felt his breathing slow, and his mind form a plan. He stood up and took Virgil’s arm, pulling him, ignoring his confused protests, opened the door of his room, and dragged them both inside.

Roman watched as Virgil smiled a familiar smile, gazing at the art on the walls. He looked at Roman and frowned, as if he were suddenly in a different world, asking, “Hey, Ro. Why are you crying?”

Roman swallowed, holding back tears, and opened a drawer in his desk. He then passed a very much used sketchbook to Virgil and sat on the bed, waiting, watching. He watched as Virgil poured over the sketches, amazed, looking up from time to time, but then at the drawings. “These are all… me?”

“Yes.” Roman nodded, blinking back tears. He choked a sob and his body shuddered as Virgil sat at the desk, looking fascinated. “I have to tell you something, Virgil. And I hope you can forgive me.”

“Okay.” Virgil eyed Roman suspiciously, waiting.

“Well.” Roman rubbed his hands together, looking all around. “This room - you know how your room has an effect on us?” Virgil nodded. “My room has an effect on everyone else too. But a particularly strong effect, it would seem, on, well, on you.” 

Virgil stared at Roman before nodding, slowly, giving him permission to continue. 

“Yes. Well… I have taken advantage of that.” Roman rubbed his hands on his pajama pants, sniffling, looking away, not daring look Virgil in the eye. “You - you get so happy in here, Verge. And I - I fell in love with that person. So… I kept asking you to come in here. And I’d draw you. And you… you looked so happy.” He looked up, waiting for Virgil to react, but Virgil just stared at him, blinking slowly. “The thing is - the wrong thing, about, about this - is that - you forget. The moment you walk out… you forget.”

“Everything?” Virgil asked, eyes widening. 

Roman nodded. “Ever-everything.” He hiccuped again, face red with shame. “I was - I used you. You do not love me.”

“I do though.” Virgil whispered, expression pained. “I love you, Roman.”

“No - you don’t.” Roman shook his head, standing, pacing. “You love me in here. You love me in here because of this place’s effect on you, how it makes you feel, think, act.” He sighed, sitting back down. “I had to tell you.”

“Why here?” Virgil looked around at the drawings, at the sketchbook, and back at Roman. “If you say I’ll forget… why here?”

“Because knowing and forgetting is better than not knowing at all. I think. Or I’m just selfish.” Roman shrugged. “I am ego, after all.” He sighed, body crumpling, and let out a long, horrible sob. He felt Virgil’s arm around him, holding him, coaxing him, and did not pull away.

The two stayed there through the night, talking, laughing, crying together. When morning came, Roman stood and, before Virgil could protest, shoved him out his door, into the hallway. He watched as his face fell into confusion, forgetting him. He sniffed, cheeks long stained with tears, as Virgil looked down, away, and shut his door. 

Virgil would forget. He already had. 

Roman opened up his sketchbook, looking at the memories and many faces of Virgil, and felt a tear roll down his cheek. It splashed onto the ink, creating a small pool, the ink running. It was followed quickly by another and another, quickly ruining the drawing, and several underneath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me life, follow me on tumblr @thelogicalloganipus for further angst
> 
> Author's note:
> 
> I want to say a quick authors note because there have been many misinterpretations of this fic. It will contain SPOILERS if you haven’t read this story. So. SPOILERS AHEAD.
> 
> Roman is ego. Thomas’s fanciful side. He likes showing off. He likes a perfect idea of love.
> 
> When Virgil steps into his room and feels good, is utterly amazed - it’s because he’s in his room. Not because Virgil actually loves Roman.
> 
> When Roman continually manipulates Virgil into going to his room, knowing full well he will forget after, that is not Roman being in love with Virgil. It’s his ego, his character trait, being in love with the idea that someone is in awe of him. What he does here is not loving. It is selfish. The love Virgil experiences is at best a pleasant illusion.
> 
> At the end, when Roman tells him and lets him go, he does so in a place where Virgil will forget and therefore absolve him of any guilt. Virgil can’t be mad at him if he doesn’t remember what he was doing.
> 
> My point is: Roman doesn’t love Virgil in this fic. He doesn’t. He mourns over no longer having someone around that will fawn over him the way Virgil did in his room - but that person Virgil is in there isn’t really Virgil.
> 
> We want to feel sorry for Roman here, and to some extent I do, but only because he takes responsibility for his actions in the end. Without that his character here would be irredeemable.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
